Éirinn go Brách
by Foreword
Summary: Just a short one shot in honor of my favorite holiday, St. Patrick's Day.


_**Éirinn go Brách**_

(Ireland Forever)

"You are _so_ drunk," Elliot laughs, as his wife pushes him back on the bed and climbs on top of him. It is the middle of the afternoon on a weekday. Kathy had insisted that he take the day off so they could celebrate St. Patrick's Day the way they used to when they were dating, before kids and grown-up responsibilities. His wife wasn't usually much of a beer drinker, but she'd put away her fair share of green tinted Harp that afternoon as they'd done a pub crawl of the Irish-Catholic neighborhood where they'd both grown up.

"Not so drunk that I don't know what I want," she now tells him with a sly grin. She begins to slowly unbutton her shirt, toying with each button while maintaining eye contact. Elliot puts his hands behind his head and enjoys the show. When the buttons are each undone, she slips the material off her shoulders one at time, letting it fall to the bed behind her. Slowly, she reaches behind her to unclasp her bra, letting the straps slide down her shoulders but holding the front in place while smiling coyly at her husband. He laughs out loud at her charade. After twenty two years of marriage, they've both seen everything the other has to offer, but it's fun to pretend.

When Elliot laughs, Kathy tosses the bra to cover his face and gives him a look of mock chagrin. He laughs again and reaches for her, but she pushes his hands away. "I'm running this show, mister," she says, a slight slur to her words. She raises her self up on her knees and unfastens the waistband of her jeans. Gazing down at him with a look of wide-eyed innocence, she slips one hand inside her panties to touch herself. Elliot goes from half-aroused to rock hard instantly.

Again, he reaches for her and again, she pushes his hands away, and slowly, maddeningly rotates her hips over his erection, causing him to groan. She starts to slowly work her jeans off her hips, pausing occasionally to self-caress. Elliot forces himself to lay back and watch, but every part of him wants to grab her, flip her over on her back and take her.

Kathy slides off him and stands up to remove her jeans, tossing them aside on the floor. She stands over him, naked and to him, as beautiful as she'd been at eighteen when they first dated. He reaches for his belt but she grabs his hands and holds them, shaking her head from side to side to scold him. She takes over the job herself, but so slowly he has to force himself to lay back and wait. It doesn't help that her hand slips down every few seconds to rub the growing bulge under his zipper. Then, she frustrates him even further by leaving his pants alone and tugging on the hem of the "Irish Police Officer" t-shirt she'd given him that morning to wear. He raises himself up so that she could lift the shirt up and over his head and reaches to push down his jeans.

"You just don't learn," she says, shaking her head again. "Now you can wait a little longer."

Elliot doesn't know whether to laugh or cry, but he's learned his lesson. He lies back and puts his hands behind his head again so they'll stay out of trouble. Kathy climbs back on the bed and straddles him. She puts her index finger in her mouth to wet it and then uses it to circle his nipples one at a time until they are rock hard. She uses her hands to gently stroke the well-defined muscles in his chest and abdomen, sliding teasingly down to his waistband and up again. He shifts under her, feeling like he is going to explode if he can't _do_ something—and soon.

Thank God! She is finally tugging his jeans down over his hips. His erection springs free and she bends to kiss the head and give him one enticing lick along the length before returning her attention to removing his pants. He waits, breathless, while she throws them on the floor next to the bed. She crouches over him, her long blond hair dangling over his face and kisses him, softly at first, and then with more urgency as she stretches out the full length of her body over his, skin to skin. He can taste the beer on her breath and finds it oddly arousing, maybe because it's reminiscent of the night they met, at a keg party. He hasn't seen his wife drunk in years.

Now he reaches his arms to embrace her, running his hands along her back and bottom, slipping his hand between her legs to feel how wet she is. He puts his hands on her hips to turn her over, but she resists.

"My show," she reminds him, pushing on his shoulders to make him lie back down on the bed. He groans but complies, wondering if she is trying to kill him. Kathy grins down at him, enjoying his discomfort.

"Good," she kisses him on the lips "things," and on the neck "come." next, on his collarbone, "to." she swirls her tongue around one nipple, causing him to arch his hips and press his hands hard against the bed to stop from reaching for her "those," she licks her way to his navel "who" she grasps his erection in her hand "wait." and takes him into her mouth. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he twists both hand into her hair and bucks his hips up to meet her. After a few minutes of her skilled manipulations, he gasps. "Baby, unless you want this to end right now, you need to stop!"

She slowly releases him and raises her head to look at him. "Do you want it to stop…like that? Because it can…" She holds his gaze. He is tempted, but... "No," he says hoarsely. "I want to finish inside you."

She smiles, an impish, mischievous smile and rises up so she is poised over his body, one leg on either side of his hips. Again, he wants nothing more than to flip her over and take her, hard and fast, but he make himself wait while she poises over him, teasing him even more as she takes him in her hand and slides him back and forth over her opening slick with moisture. Finally, _finally_ she puts him out of his misery and blessedly slides down the long length of him until he is buried deep within her so familiar depths. She remains motionless for a long moment, her blue eyes locked on his and then she slowly begins to rock up and down. He slips his hands up to hold on to her hips so he can match her motions with thrusts of his own. After a minute, he musters enough composure to think of her needs and moves one hand to where they are joined, so that he can touch her clit with his thumb every time she slides down hard against his hand. When she closes her eyes and tipped her head back, her long hair draped down her back, he knows she is close and increases the pressure slightly. He slips his other hand up to cup a breast, flicking his thumb lightly back and forth across the nipple. He watches her face, drinking in every flicker of heat and desire that flash across her features until finally she tenses and stops moving, pressing down hard upon his hand. He keeps up the small circular motion he's been using and is gratified to see the results play out across her face as she gasps and gives a long, throaty moan. The sound and sight of her pleasure is enough to bring him to the same place and he moves his hands to grasp her by the hips, hard enough that later he'll find bruises there in the shapes of his fingers.

He holds on and pushes deep, exploding with a loud groan of his own.

Keeping him inside her, Kathy moves forward to that their chests are pressed together, her face against his shoulder. Her labored breathing matches his own and he buries his face in her hair, remaining like that until they both regain control.

"Happy St. Patrick's Day, babe," she whispers in his ear when she can speak.

He chuckles softly. "And I'm a lucky Irish bastard, aren't I?" They share a laugh and then she slowly, reluctantly, moves to lie at his side. They're both more than a little sweaty and sticky, but neither of them makes a move to go clean up. Elliot puts out his arm and pulls his wife close so that her head is on his chest. They drift off to sleep, enjoying their last few minutes of peace and quiet before it's time to pick up the kids and get back to their daily lives. It's the rare moments like these that keep them centered and remind them that even old married couples can remember what it's like to be


End file.
